Punishment
by rinny08
Summary: Damon feels like he's always watching Jeremy walk away.  Complete.
1. Punishment

**A/N: I'm not sure where this came from exactly, but it isn't part of 'Trust' or 'Winds of Change'. Spoilers for 'The Last Dance'. Please review.**

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><p>Damon feels like he's always watching Jeremy walk away. He knows the slope of Jeremy's shoulders and broad expanse of his back too well. He's memorized the arch of the back of his neck, and there's a part of him—bigger than he cares to admit—that wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around Jeremy's middle and pull him back, holding him tightly and refusing to let go.<p>

It was never supposed to be like this. For a long time, it was just mutual loneliness. And then suddenly Damon woke up one morning and watched Jeremy yank up his jeans and scramble into his t-shirt and walk out of Damon's room without a second glance. Damon's heart had twisted in his chest, and his normally absurdly luxurious bed had felt too big and empty and cold.

Damon isn't used to this. He always holds the control, keeps it close and doesn't let himself be the one who cares more. Or at all. He learned his lesson with Katherine, and then with Elena, and he won't go there a third time. Or he wouldn't, except for Jeremy fucking Gilbert. There's something about Jeremy that makes Damon's heart start hammering against his ribcage like it's trying to break out. And Damon doesn't understand it, because of all the humans he's ever encountered, it's not as if Jeremy really stands out from the crowd. He's just a small-town teenager. Anywhere else, any other time, Damon would have walked by without a second glance.

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><p>Damon wakes alone, as per usual. It's ridiculously pathetic, how much he hopes every time he falls asleep with Jeremy in his bed that the teenager will still be there when he wakes up. He never is. He's either gone or halfway out the door. He knows better by now (or he should) but that doesn't do anything for the wave of disappointment he always feels.<p>

He fills his day easily: trading barbs with Stefan before he leaves for school, reading for most of the morning, meeting with the Founders Council for lunch, getting a drink (or three) with Ric after school lets out and returning to the boardinghouse around dinnertime. The bell rings at seven fifteen on the dot; as routines go it's not ideal or remotely enough, but it's theirs. Damon opens the door and Jeremy wastes no time. He pushes Damon against the wall for a kiss that's hard and desperate, all teeth and tongue.

Damon likes to think sometimes that when Jeremy kisses him like this that maybe he's searching for the same things Damon wants. He doesn't let himself linger on that thought, though, because he knows it's a foolish, pathetic hope.

Foreplay isn't something they do. Everything is just pure efficiency so they can get to the fucking, a few scrambling moments of togetherness, enough for Jeremy but always just short of what Damon wants (_needs_).

He drinks Jeremy's blood because he's there and it would be a waste and it's part of the deal. They lay next to each other, catching their breath, not touching or speaking because that requires an intimacy they don't have and never will have. So when Jeremy starts to slide away, Damon doesn't reach for him even though every molecule of his body wants to. He watches Jeremy dress, skin disappearing beneath layers of clothes and then he's walking out without a backward glance, his shoulders set in a determined line.

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><p>Jealousy comes naturally to Damon, watching Jeremy with Bonnie. Bonnie gets smiles and conversation and feelings, and Damon gets the leftovers: silences and desperate fucking. The vindictive part of him delights in knowing that Jeremy keeps coming back to him, regardless of whatever he has going on with Bonnie. Damon isn't naïve; he knows it won't last, but he's going to hold onto what he can for as long as he can. As far as he's concerned, stolen moments a few nights a week are better than nothing at all.<p>

When _he's_ the one to end it, he assumes it's the usual karma at work: the same force that won't let him have Katherine or Elena is keeping him from having Jeremy too, because for Damon Salvatore to be even remotely happy is asking too much. He doesn't really believe his punishment fits the crime (or the sum of _all_ his crimes, for that matter) but he's biased, of course.

He closes the trunk on Bonnie's body, and he can hear Jeremy running towards him, calling his name.

"Damon! Hey, I got your message, I can't find anyone." It's strange, hearing Jeremy say his name and he wishes he knew how to change things between them. "Where's Elena? Where's Bonnie?"

"We need to have a little talk."

Jeremy frowns. Talking is a foreign concept for them. Damon gets into his car, waiting for Jeremy to walk around and climb into the passenger seat. He starts the engine, letting it idle while he tries to find words. He doesn't know what he wants to say first, and if he's honest with himself he doesn't actually want to say anything at all. He'd be perfectly content to let Jeremy believe Bonnie is permanently dead. He knows the lie won't hold up, of course, not for very long, and maybe it makes him a bad person but it means he would have Jeremy to himself for a week or two longer.

But he can't lie. He tells Jeremy Bonnie will be fine in an hour or so and explains the rest of his plan, staring at his hands on the steering wheel instead of Jeremy. They finish the drive in silence, and it isn't what Damon wants, but at least it's familiar.

When he finally does look at Jeremy, the teenager is obviously anxious, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Damon aches to touch him; instead he clutches the steering wheel tighter.

The words tumble gracelessly out of his mouth, "We should probably stop…" he gestures vaguely between them. "This. Can't afford any distractions, now that big bad Klaus is around, possessing teachers and killing witches."

Jeremy flinches, and Damon refuses to wonder whether it can be attributed to his callous tone, his cheap shot about Bonnie or the fact that he's ending whatever they've been doing for the past few months.

"Yeah. Okay." Jeremy agrees, nodding and even though it was his idea, it still feels like a sucker punch to the gut when Jeremy doesn't argue.

There's nothing left for either of them to say or do, so Jeremy shoulders open his door and walks around to the trunk. Damon stays, figuring Jeremy would refuse his help anyway.

As Jeremy carries Bonnie towards the ruin, Damon turns the car around and starts heading home to another mess he needs to clean up. He doesn't look in the rearview mirror to watch Jeremy walk away from him again.


	2. Deteriorate

**A/N: Here I am. Again. Completely unable to leave a oneshot alone. Again. I promise this series is only going to be three parts though, not forty-six. ;)**

**Also. Holy angst, Batman. Spoilers for the last few episodes of Season 2. I've taken some liberties with the finale, but let's call it creative license, yeah?**

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><p>Damon can't help watching Jeremy at Jenna and John's funeral. They haven't spoken directly since Damon dropped Jeremy off at the ruin with Bonnie after the dance. Stefan kept Bonnie and Jeremy up-to-date on everything while they hid out, and Damon did his best not to even think about the boy.<p>

Now, it's impossible. Now, looking at Jeremy in a suit that's stretched just a little too tight across his shoulders, the lines of his body wilting with exhaustion that goes beyond sleeplessness, Damon can't help but want to pull him into his arms and attempt to shield him from some of this. He's not foolish enough to think he can make much of a difference, but he wants to do _something_.

Stefan would tell him he's fixating on Jeremy to avoid thinking about his own impending death. Or he would if he weren't so hell-bent on finding a cure that doesn't exist, anyway. Damon resists the urge to roll up his sleeve again, to check the progress of his bite. He's not concerned about the fever or the hunger or even the point where he'll stop recognising his nearest and dearest; what scares him most are the hallucinations. He's had a hard enough time beating his past back where it belongs, and it would be more than a little inconvenient for it to start to resurface again.

He has a sleepless night while his arm throbs with pain. He'd happily cut the damn thing off if he thought it would do any good. But after watching Rose deteriorate in front of him, he knows better.

He walks to the Gilberts' house without thinking about it. He hesitates on the porch, before deciding since he's going to die, he may as well do it with all his amends made. He doesn't relish the thought of apologising to Elena for the things he's done this week, because he isn't sorry about any of them. He has plenty of other regrets, but none of them have anything to do with his brother's girlfriend, for once.

He isn't surprised when Elena can't forgive him. He knows things would have been different if he'd lead with _I'm dying_, but he can't bring himself to say it. He doesn't want pity.

Jeremy is coming up the stairs as Damon is going down and before he can decide what he's going to say to the teenager—if anything—his arm gives a particularly nasty throb that radiates all the way to his shoulder and he hisses in surprise, pulling his arm instinctively closer to his body.

Jeremy's eyes narrow immediately. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm fine." Damon says as coldly as he can manage, but Jeremy isn't buying it. He grabs Damon's arm roughly and Damon clenches his teeth to keep from crying out in pain.

"Show me." Jeremy demands.

If it were anyone else, Damon would have responded with a snide comment before walking away. Because it's Jeremy, he sits down heavily on the landing and pushes up his sleeve.

Jeremy sits next to him. "Ouch."

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one."

"What happened?"

"Tyler Lockwood."

Jeremy's eyes go wide. "Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Damon, you can't…_die_." It's as if Jeremy has to build himself up to say the word. After the week they've all had, Damon doesn't blame him.

"It seems I can." Damon sighs.

"There's nothing you can do?"

"Believe me, kid, if there was a cure I would have found it the first time."

"There _has_ to be," Jeremy says, his expression determined. "I'll call Bonnie and Ric and we'll find something."

"There's nothing to find, Jeremy." Damon doesn't mean for it to come out so harshly. Jeremy flinches.

"Are you scared?" Jeremy asks after a moment.

"Terrified." Damon admits quietly. "Besides, I'm too young to die."

Jeremy rewards his pathetic joke with a small laugh before his face falls again. "This really sucks."

"Yeah. It does."

"I'm sorry, you know." Jeremy says softly and Damon doesn't need to ask what he's talking about.

"I'm not." Damon says. There's no harm in being honest now. There aren't any consequences left. "Of course, if I'd known I was going to die I wouldn't have suggested we stop, but no regrets other than that."

Jeremy looks surprised, but before either of them can say anything more, the front door swings open and Ric steps across the threshold, with one duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a second dragging across the ground behind him.

"Oh, good, you two can help me. My car is full of stuff."

"Actually, I was just leaving." Helping Ric unpack is not how Damon intends to spend his last sane hours. "Lots to do today."

"Damon," Jeremy protests.

"You'll be fine, Jer." Damon says, before getting up and walking out the open door. He feels no satisfaction in finally being the one to walk away.

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><p>Damon knows what's coming. And because he knows what's coming, he isn't going to wait around for death to claim him. He spent the whole night thinking about it while he wasn't sleeping, and he knows he has to do this himself. He's been saving this particular bottle of bourbon for a special occasion anyway. He'd take more time to savour it, but there's a voice in the back of his head whispering <em>do it now, before you lose your nerve. <em>

He slips his ring off with fingers he refuses to acknowledge are shaking. At first, the sun is warm on his face. Then, it starts to burn. It seems ridiculously unfair that vampire suicides have to be painful. Humans at least have pills as an option, like Jeremy's botched attempt to turn himself. He shoves the thought of Jeremy away roughly just as Stefan appears in the room. Damon feels the impact before he understands what Stefan is doing.

Stefan babbles about finding a cure—_hopeless_. Damon wants to scream. He wants to shout at his brother, wants to break things, wants to kill Tyler Lockwood, wants to laugh at the irony of Stefan searching for something that doesn't exist, wasting time while his brother is dying, wants to cry at the unfairness. He's _dying. _The least Stefan can do is let Damon do it on his own terms.

But of course he won't. He shoves Damon's ring back on and makes more meaningless promises about cures. Stefan will search tirelessly for a solution; of that there is no doubt. But he won't find one, and Damon will get worse, steadily losing his pride and his mind. He shoves away from his brother, leaving him to hunt desperately for an answer he isn't going to find.

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><p>First it feels just like a cold, and for an hour or so Damon can actually appreciate the novelty of feeling something he hasn't felt since he was a human. As his fever climbs, though, things get steadily worse. Time blurs as he slips in and out of his past. In a brief lucid moment, he realises he's stumbling through town, <em>starving<em>, and knows it's not good. Before he can do anything, a hallucination claims him again.

Faintly he hears someone calling his name. His whole body _hurts_ and his skin is on fire and someone is holding him up now, pulling him away from all those thudding heartbeats in the middle of town.

"Hey, hey, let's get you out of here," this voice is familiar and soothing and it takes Damon a second to place it. Jeremy. Relief he can't explain washes over him, numbing the pain for just a moment.

It's quiet now. Quiet enough that Damon can hear that unmistakable click of the bullet leaving its chamber, milliseconds before the gunshot. Damon knows that sound, knows to be afraid of it. The last time he heard it, it came from his father's gun and pain exploded in his chest. He moves without needing to think, quickly enough that he escapes the bullet.

He smells blood that isn't his just before he escapes into the darkness. _Jeremy_.

Someone else calls his name and the voice is familiar again, but he's having a harder time hearing it, sifting through the voices in his memory. He collides with someone solid and warm and he can hear her heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears, so she must be human. But she has Katherine's face, and Katherine definitely _isn't _human.

He blinks, his vision sliding in and out of focus. Katherine? Elena? Elena. She's pulling on his sleeve, so he stumbles after her and then suddenly she isn't there anymore and he wonders if she was ever there at all.

He's home. He doesn't know what's real. Elena or Katherine is there. If it's Elena, he should tell her about Jeremy. If it's Katherine, he shouldn't tell her anything. She's speaking gently—Elena. He can't follow her words. He might be responding. He doesn't know if the words are real or in his head. Just like Jeremy's blood.

Elena's talking loudly now. Harshly. No. Katherine. Elena and Katherine? Both. Or maybe neither. Maybe he's already dead.

He smells blood again. Jeremy? No. It doesn't taste like Jeremy. Katherine or Elena says something to Elena or Katherine.

His skin feels cooler. He doesn't hurt as much.

_Please_, he thinks,_ let me die_.


	3. Redemption

**A/N: This is the last part. Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed. **

Damon wakes to someone pounding urgently on the door downstairs. He's disorientated, because he's pretty sure the last thing he remembers is dying. He blinks down at his arm, which has gone back to its normal colour. Either he's hallucinating again, or he's not dying anymore. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but he wants to pick not dying. He glances next to him, and sees Elena stretched out there, asleep. He has a fuzzy memory of her being here before (and Katherine, although he wonders if that was real or if it was his mind fucking with him).

Whoever is downstairs starts knocking again, and Damon kicks free of the covers. Elena stirs but doesn't wake and he walks silently out of the room before running down the stairs. He pulls the door open to see Jeremy standing on the porch in his pajamas, breathing hard, like he ran there.

"You're not dead." Jeremy says, but then his eyes widen. "Fuck. Maybe you are."

"Alive, I think." Damon frowns. He can remember a gunshot and the smell of Jeremy's blood. "But I could still be dying. You might be a hallucination."

"I'm not a hallucination."

"Well, of course that's what a hallucination _would_ say." Damon steps aside to let the teenager into the house anyway. "Did you get shot tonight?"

"Yes."

"Okay. That one was real. But you're not dead? I smelled a lot of blood."

"I was dead."

Damon's eyes narrow suspiciously. "You're not a vampire. Why are you alive if you were dead?" From the way his head is spinning, Damon is leaning farther away from _not dying_ and closer and closer to _hallucinating again_.

"Bonnie." Jeremy says simply, and that _does_ make sense.

"I'm not dead. And you're not dead. Even though we both _should_ be dead."

"Yes." Jeremy confirms.

"Well that's…unexpected."

Jeremy laughs, the sound more hysterical than amused. Damon can see the tension in his shoulders, and his eyes look a little bit wild.

"Are you all right?" Damon asks cautiously.

"I saw Vicki. And Anna." Jeremy looks like he might be sick. "They're dead, but there they were, standing in my hallway. So then I had to come here. I had to know if I was going to start seeing you too." Jeremy eyes him worriedly again. "You're sure you're alive?"

"I haven't been alive for almost two hundred years." Damon smirks.

"_Damon_." Jeremy pleads with him.

"I'm very much undead, Jeremy. Promise."

Jeremy nods, but he still looks unconvinced. Damon reaches out and grabs Jeremy's hand, lacing their fingers together, trying not to think about how long he's wanted to do this. Jeremy looks surprised, and Damon takes his opportunity to pull him farther into the house, swinging the door shut behind them.

Jeremy seems reassured, and he squeezes Damon's hand tightly for a moment. Damon squeezes back.

"I could use a drink." The vampire grins. "You?"

Jeremy nods. "God, yes."

Damon leads the way into the living room and pours two drinks. They both toss them back immediately.

"I'm happy you're okay," Jeremy says quietly after a moment. "But I'm _so_ mad at you."

Damon sighs. "What have I done now?"

Jeremy pulls a face, "All you said was 'you'll be fine, Jer'. That is the worst goodbye _ever_. And then you just left, like it wasn't a big deal. Like you didn't even fucking care."

Damon scowls. "Well, you'd know. You're the expert on leaving, after all."

Lashing out comes easily to Damon. He doesn't know how to have a conversation about _feelings_ with anyone, let alone Jeremy. He can count the number of real conversations he's had with the teenager on one hand, and none of them have ever come close to expressing the things he thinks he'd like to say.

"Damon," Jeremy says softly, and Damon is fairly certain the expression on Jeremy's face is something like pity. Damon _loathes_ pity.

"Don't." He snaps. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me."

"Would you just let me talk?" Jeremy snarls, and Damon is surprised at the venom behind his words. Jeremy sighs heavily, and it's a couple seconds before he starts talking again. "I kept telling myself it was just sex. But it wasn't, was it? I mean, obviously that's all it was at the beginning, but then you started looking at me like you wanted more. And I didn't know what to do about that."

"Jeremy—

"I'm not finished." Jeremy cuts him off. "I know it's a fucking cliché, but I really didn't know what I had until I thought you were dying. And I _know_ you care about me too. You can deny it all you want, or pretend none of this happened—

"I wasn't the one pretending, Jeremy." Damon snaps. "_You_ were the one walking around like you didn't care, and believe it or not, this whole unrequited thing is getting a little old."

"What was I supposed to do, Damon? I went into this thinking you were in love with my sister."

"Yeah, well, I'm not." Damon snaps. "Although, in the interest of full disclosure, she _is_ in my bed right now." Jeremy looks stricken, and Damon knows he shouldn't enjoy it, but somehow it's reassurance he didn't realise he needs. "Fully clothed," he adds. "I imagine she fell asleep during my deathbed vigil." He smirks.

Jeremy doesn't look particularly reassured. "It's not funny, Damon."

Damon doesn't often feel guilty, but he does then. "Sorry," he says, meaning it.

Jeremy shrugs. "I just don't know how you can joke about it."

"C'mon, Jeremy," Damon rolls his eyes. "You've known me long enough by now to know that I'm kind of a dick."

"More than kind of." Jeremy shoots back, a smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth.

They fall into a silence just this side of awkward, and Jeremy opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally saying, "Can we just admit that we're on the same page here?"

"And what page is that?"

Jeremy looks exasperated. "Jesus, Damon. I _care_ about you. It wouldn't kill you to admit you feel the same way."

Damon's first instinct is to push Jeremy away. He's already let the teenager get close enough to hurt him, any closer and Damon knows he's probably headed for disaster. For once, though, Damon ignores his instincts. He reaches out towards Jeremy, even though his brain is practically screaming in protest. His hand lands on Jeremy's shoulder and he steps closer, sliding his hand around the back of Jeremy's neck. His fingers tangle idly into Jeremy's hair and for a moment they stand frozen, Jeremy's eyes locked on Damon's.

Then, one of them moves, and Damon isn't sure which, but he really doesn't care, because Jeremy's lips collide with his, hungry and demanding, his arms winding tight around Damon and his tongue pushing roughly past Damon's teeth. Damon lets his hands roam, tugging uselessly at Jeremy's clothes, and they start to stumble backwards. They land awkwardly in one of the chairs, and Jeremy pulls away, blinking down at Damon.

"Is this a good idea?" He asks, even while his hands are already reaching for the hem of Damon's t-shirt, pulling it up, his knuckles skimming across Damon's skin.

"Probably not," Damon shrugs, "but I'm not stupid enough to let you walk away from me again."

Jeremy grins and leans forward again, his lips grazing across Damon's jaw and his breath warm against Damon's ear. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispers, and Damon feels a thrill at the words, knowing he's been waiting to hear them for too long.

"Good," he whispers, trailing his lips across Jeremy's jaw before pulling him closer and capturing his lips in another hungry kiss.


End file.
